


Time After Time

by A_bit_not_good_yeah



Series: After Hours [2]
Category: Silicon Valley (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Explicit Sexual Content, Humiliation, Identity Porn, M/M, Tangled up emotions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:20:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23057629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_bit_not_good_yeah/pseuds/A_bit_not_good_yeah
Summary: "Listen, Richard...we gotta talk. I know you must be creaming your panties at the thought of getting railed again by yours truly, but I gotta tell ya, I'm not really feeling it, bro. If all you want is to get fucked, you don't need me for that. You can shake that ass at any gay bar in the city and catch a dick if that's what you want." His eyes pin Richard in place, accusatory. Scrutinizing."Unless...” Ed says, like the idea has just struck him. “Unless you can think of something to make it worth my while?"Or: the second late-night meeting between Richard Hendricks and Ed Chambers.
Relationships: Jared Dunn/Richard Hendricks, Richard Hendricks/Ed Chambers
Series: After Hours [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1657078
Comments: 12
Kudos: 62





	Time After Time

**Author's Note:**

> Since a few people asked for a sequel to True Colors, here it is! Thank you endlessly to joycecarolnotes for hand-holding and excellent advice and beta-ing skills and for just being a really kind person.

This is the longest day of Richard's life. Longer than TechCrunch Disrupt, longer than 48-hour-long sleepless code sprints, longer than the endless grey fog of getting fired from his own company. None of it compares to waiting for the coders to empty out, the janitors to come and go, and the lights in the bullpen to turn off. Waiting for 10:30 to roll around.

Waiting for Ed to come back.

And come back is the right phrase for it, because as crazy and unreal as it sounds, Richard hasn’t seen any sign of Ed in Jared’s eyes all day. When Richard arrived at the office in the morning, loose-limbed and sore in a way that secretly thrilled him, he nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw Jared brewing his tea in the kitchen.

“Good morning, Richard! I’ve got your tea right here and I set up that meeting you asked for with Prasanna at Sosh, that’s tomorrow afternoon. I also thought we’d go over - Richard, are you alright? You’re not feeling nauseated are you?”

Richard could only stare at Jared, neatly pressed and combed, an unassuming smile in a sweater vest. Nothing dark or dangerous about him. No trace of Ed’s sneering confidence or smug satisfaction at the events of the night before or the effect he had - continues to have - on Richard. 

"No, I'm fine are you...you're, I mean,” he lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “how are you? Jared...?" He searched Jared's face for the slightest hint at what lies beneath, the evidence of what they _did_ , but Jared just smiled placidly, happy to be asked as he replied, "I'm doing well, thank you Richard!" 

Gulping, Richard willed his hands not to shake as he took his tea from Jared. As their fingers brushed, a flare of shame clenched deep inside him as he remembered where exactly those fingers were last night. In a strangled voice, Richard said, “Ok well um uh thanks, uh Jared I’m - it’s - I’m fine, okay excuse me,” and beelined for his office where he stayed for the rest of the day. If it hadn't been for the smashed pieces of his ceramic dinosaur on the carpet or the tell-tale stains underneath his desk, Richard might have been able to believe the whole thing had been a particularly vivid dream.

Now it’s 10:27 and Richard’s skin is buzzing, his heart beating in his throat. The anticipation of tonight has filled him with both dread and excitement all day. Would Ed push him down onto the desk and use him again? Maybe - maybe make Richard sit on his lap and ride him. Or lay Richard out on the floor and tease him, make him beg for it. _This is a terrible idea_ , his last reasonable brain cell reminds him for the thousandth time today. _You’re going to lose Jared over this, you need to man the fuck up and talk to him before he walks away from this - whatever this twisted game is._ A cold pit opens up in his stomach at the idea of having a _conversation_ about Jared _fucking him on top of his desk_ and he opens up the Hooli calendar app on his phone for the thousandth time, meaning to cancel the meeting. And for the thousandth time, another voice pipes up, one that sounds so calm and reasonable that it's hard to resist. _Jared is the one who started this. If he didn't like it, he wouldn't have asked for another meeting. He's taking what he wants! Asserting his power and personhood or whatever therapy shit, it’s good for him! He wants it, you want it, and this way you get to skip all the **talking**. Do you really want to fuck this up by talking it to death?_

For the thousandth time, Richard closes the Hooli calendar app and puts his phone back in his pocket.

When he looks up, Ed is standing in the doorway. He leans casually against the doorframe, looking bored and disaffected while scrolling through his phone. Like looking at Richard, or even standing up straight, is somehow beneath him. Richard fidgets in his seat, and a quick flash of long, confusing fixations on the Marlboro Man ads on the back of his dad's old _Rolling Stone_ magazines flits across his brain. He looks Ed over carefully up and down, searching for any sign of Jared, but he finds none. The cuffs of Ed’s slate blue button-down are undone, his shirtsleeves rolled up to the elbow. Has Richard ever seen Jared’s forearms before? He must have, but somehow they never looked so full of...potential energy. Richard’s mouth goes dry. 

The silence spins out too long, Richard staring at Ed, Ed staring at his phone, until Richard finally coughs a little and manages a weak, “Hey.”

Ed looks up in surprise, like he forgot Richard was even there. _Jesus, why is that so hot, what the fuck is wrong with you?_

“Oh hey.” He gestures to his phone, pocketing it without looking. “Online poker. Had to finish laying a smackdown on this little bitch 15-year-old in Ohio. Totally crushed it with trip queens."

Richard nods dazedly, standing up from his CEO chair, eager, but unsure of what to do next. He crosses in front of his desk, meaning to go to Ed, but stops short, self-conscious. “Do you um, uh want me to uh,” he says as he starts to unbutton his pants but then stops when Ed gives him a withering look, his mouth turned down into a moue of distaste. Instead of coming to sit in one of the chairs in front of the desk like Richard expected, Ed crosses to the couch and sprawls on it, his arm draped over the back and his knees splayed wide. 

"Listen, Richard...we gotta talk. I know you must be creaming your panties at the thought of getting railed again by yours truly, but I gotta tell ya, I'm not really feeling it, bro. If all you want is to get fucked, you don't need me for that. You can shake that ass at any gay bar in the city and catch a dick if that's what you want." His eyes pin Richard in place, accusatory. Scrutinizing. 

Richard opens his mouth to protest, closes it. He doesn't - it's not like that, he thought Ed _understood_ why he can't just. DO that. That DOING that, going to one of those places with the lights and the music and the, the _writhing_ is so far beyond what Richard could ever do, because it would make the wanting real, and it's _not._ Real. Not like that, at least. Instead, it's a dream, a fucked-up fantasy wrapped in a familiar face and broad, gentle hands, and there's nothing wrong with wanting a dream. 

"Mm," Ed hums, looking through Richard with a smirk like he's transparent as glass. "That idea doesn't seem to appeal." He licks his lips once, making a show of considering his words carefully. "Welllll...the thing is, Richard, my debt is fucking paid. Jared and I are square. And I'm a busy guy, I gotta be out there crushing it 24/7. So I don't really see how it's worth my time to stick around."

 _No no no, he can’t that’s not fair it took so long to get here he can’t take it away like that, not when I_ know _now, that’s not FAIR -_ Richard begins to panic, his eyes growing wide and his pulse quickening. Ed's eyes never leave Richard's as his hand drifts down to his crotch, lazily rubbing back and forth over the growing bulge there. As his breathing speeds up, Richard can't help but let his gaze fall to the hypnotic movement, and a flush begins to spread up his neck and cheeks as his body responds to watching Ed absent-mindedly stroke himself. The muscles in Ed’s forearm flex smoothly with each stroke, and Richard gulps.

"Unless...” Ed says, like the idea has just struck him. “Unless you can think of something to make it worth my while?" he drawls, leering, and Richard sways on his feet as a dizzy rush of arousal hits him, tangling up with the anxiety in his stomach. _Ok. Ok there’s a chance, you can do this, you can fix this, you can keep it if you don’t fuck it up, please god don’t let me fuck this up._ Ed's gaze travels up and down Richard's whole body like something alive, the weight of it firm and hot against Richard's skin. Without realizing it Richard takes a step closer, and Ed grins up at him, predatory. 

"You're a smart guy, aren't you Richard? You could go out and get some strange right now if you wanted, your slutty little hole is just _begging_ for it, isn't that right? But I don't think you want that, and it doesn’t have to be that way. So...what are you gonna do to get what you _really_ want?" At this, Ed pops open the button of his khakis and eases the zipper down slowly, so slowly, the noise uncomfortably loud in the otherwise silent building. He takes his cock out, stroking it languidly, and Richard gapes, his breathing gone shallow, his mouth suddenly flooding with saliva. He hadn’t actually seen it last night, everything happened so fast, but now he can’t stop himself from staring - Ed’s cock is long and thick, flushed a dusky pink, and Richard is transfixed by the way Ed’s broad hand wraps around it, sliding lazily up and down. 

Without thinking, Richard closes the distance between himself and Ed, and promptly gets on his knees.

“That’s what we thought,” Ed purrs, and uses his other hand to caress over the nape of Richard’s neck until his fingers are tightening in the short curls at the base of his skull. 

“I don’t uh, uh,” Richard swallows thickly, “I mean I haven’t - um.” He licks his lips. He knows what to do in theory, of course; he knows how many nights he's spent, pushed past the brink of desperation, imagining the fingers shoved into his mouth were something more substantial. Eyes squeezed shut, fucking his own mouth as best he can, absolutely positively not jerking off while thinking of startling blue eyes and gentle, enormous hands. 

Ed chuckles, the sound low and dirty and at a pitch that worms its way into Richard’s stomach and makes him go hot all over. His eyes flick up to Ed’s from under his lashes, his teeth digging into his lower lip, pleading. Richard’s head snaps back as Ed pulls his hair, shocking a moan out of him that makes him uncomfortably aware of his erection now straining against his pants. He should put up more of a fight, shouldn’t be this easy, should tell Ed to fuck off, this isn’t the way people do things - but then, Richard doesn’t know much about how other people do things. He breathes in little huffs through his nose and lets Ed draw him closer to the tip of his cock. Richard can smell him, something clean and masculine and woodsy - a smell he remembers catching whiffs of in the garage at the incubator during late night talks and pre-dawn panic attacks. The memory makes his heart squeeze and his dick pulse and his stomach roil.

Ed keeps his eyes pinned to Richard’s as he brushes the head of his cock against Richard’s parted lips, letting the silky smooth skin smear over his mouth like lipstick. “Don’t worry, man,” he says as Richard opens his mouth wider to let Ed’s cockhead in, sighing a little, lapping at Ed tentatively. “We’ll grade on a curve.”

The reminder of comparison should be panic-inducing, but instead it burns through Richard like acid, the memories of all those women parading out of the garage in their sensible skirts and cardigans, women who kissed Jared on the cheek and said, “Thank you for a lovely time,” women whose nails and mouths left marks on Jared’s soft, pale skin like they had earned the right. With a sound like a growl in the back of his throat, he sinks down onto Ed’s cock too rough, too fast, wanting too much. He coughs, splutters, and Ed lets him bottom out but tugs on his hair, sending sparks down Richard's spine. 

"Careful now. Should have known you'd be so greedy for it you'd choke, fucking _slut._ " If Richard didn't know better, he'd say Ed's tone was fond. The words are all Ed, but the gentle admonishment and soothing fingers scratching at his scalp come from somewhere else and Richard feels fear start to bloom in his stomach as he realizes where he is and who he's on his knees for. _This is all too much, it’s too big and too fast and you'll ruin it, ruin him, what are you even doing? This will change things, that's why you can't, we can't, we don't --_

A sudden pressure between his legs shocks him out of his thought spiral as Ed's loafer-clad foot presses against Richard's rock-hard dick then releases. Ed, who always seems to know just what Richard needs. "C'mon baby," he says, and the endearment sounds nasty in his mouth. "Don't pussy out on me now."

Richard pulls off - his heart is in his throat and the coppery taste of adrenaline won't leave his mouth. What had he said? _Make it worth my while._

He brings his hands up, one to steady himself against the lean muscle of Ed’s thigh, one to - _gulp_ \- wrap around the base of Ed’s dick. It’s hot to the touch, alive, and it feels dangerous in his hand in a way that scares him. He strokes up and down once, experimenting, trying to get a reaction, but Ed just watches him with hooded eyes. Letting Richard get acclimated. Waiting to be impressed. His hand is still in Richard's hair, petting through his curls, and it grounds Richard enough to refocus, his head swimming hazily in arousal and his heart jackhammering in his chest. Richard closes his eyes and gently licks under the head of Ed's cock, kittenish, once, twice, until he hears a stuttery inhale come from the man above him. He does it again, letting his tongue sweep over the soft skin and marvelling _There's a dick! There's a dick in your mouth!_ and his own dick throbs at the very concept, growing harder just from the thrill and the shame and the _relief_ of it. 

Then, craving more, he wraps his lips around the crown and slides down slowly as far as he can go. Ed hisses and his hips stutter as he sighs out, "Oh, fuck yeah, that's good, bro, that's real good." A surge of pride flows through him, and he bobs his head a little, experimenting with suction. It gets easier as he gains a little confidence, and he uses his hand to stroke over the length that he can’t fit in his mouth. 

"That's right - knew you'd be like this, fucking look at you, bro, you look so fucking good with your mouth full." Richard groans, a shudder rippling through him. The sight he must make, still fully clothed, dick hard and leaking in his pants, moaning around another man's ( _Jared it’s fucking_ Jared _\- shut up it’s NOT, not like that, not real, **not real** ) _cock. 

For the last five years he's never really been able to square the version of himself he sees with the perceptions of other people - the press calling him the wunderkind, the genius, the next big thing. Dinesh and Gilfoyle expecting him to always have all the answers. But most of all, he's never been able to live up to the weight of Jared's eyes upon him, his faith, his unceasing devotion and care. Even when Richard betrayed him, showed him how fucking small and petty and vindictive he could be, Jared forgave him. It seemed impossible to ever be the man Jared thought he was, someone _good_ and and and fucking _worthy_ of Jared's attention. But Ed doesn't have any expectations of him. Ed doesn't put him on a pedestal, destined to fall. Ed only wants somewhere to stick his dick; Richard is nothing more than a warm, willing hole to him. The thought thrills and disgusts him in equal measure; this is what he wants, this is what he needs, fuck yes thank you thank you _thank you Ed._ He hollows his cheeks around Ed's length as best he can and squirms hotly when Ed calls him an eager little whore.

Soon all conscious thought leaves Richard's mind and becomes a blissful sort of blankness. Ed's grunts and sighs combine with the obscene sound of Richard's slurping and the rhythmic bob of his head until Richard is floating and calm. He is aware only of Ed's hand in his hair, the pleasant soreness of his jaw, the weight of Ed's cock sliding in and out of his slick, hungry mouth. Distantly, some part of him thinks _was this what Jared meant all those times he suggested you start a meditation practice?_

It isn't long before the muscles in Ed's slim thighs begin to tremble, the fingers in Richard's hair tightening on the verge of pain. "Stop stop stop," Ed hisses, pulling Richard off with a lewd pop. Richard feels hazy and weightless, a glazed sort of contentment buzzing through him as Ed catches his breath. "Jesus, if I'd known you liked sucking cock this much, I'd have been fucking your mouth every day for years, Richard. Christ, if I were Jared I'd keep you on your knees 24/7.” Richard nods a little blearily. _Jared, yes, that sounds good, whatever you think is best._

Ed leans forward then, his lips meeting Richard’s in a surging kiss that Richard hums into, happily opening up to the swipe of Ed’s tongue. Ed’s lips are surprisingly soft, and in between eager, searching kisses, he breathes against Richard’s mouth, “I guess you’ve earned yourself a treat. D’you wanna ride me now?” 

Richard whimpers into the kiss as Ed's hands go to work unbuttoning Richard's shirt and shrugging off his ever-present hoodie because _yes_ he wants that, he wants that _so fucking much_ , what a fantastic idea, why didn't he think of that? 

Ed's fingers dip below the waistband of Richard's pants, teasing touches as he shoves the clothes down and out of the way. Their kiss melts into something soft and sweet that makes Richard’s whole body tingle, and when he eventually pulls away, flushed and sated, he sees kind, electric blue eyes and an upside-down smile. 

It's like a transformer blows inside him, an explosive shower of sparks in his guts, because it's Ed's hand wrapped around his dick, but it's Jared's face, adoring and awe-struck, that's staring back at him. The wires are crossing in his brain between arousal and panic, and he makes an undignified squawking sound as he scrambles back on his heels. 

It’s surreal to watch but after one moment of startled shock on his face, Jared melts away before Richard’s eyes in a matter of seconds. His eyes grow colder, his jawline gets sharper - did he actually get taller? How is that possible? - and then Ed's staring down at him, lip curled into a sneer, and it calms Richard's rabbiting heart a bit. There's no sign of Jared anywhere as Ed pulls a sachet of lube out of his pocket and throws it at Richard, where it bounces off his bare chest and hits the carpet. 

"C'mon, get yourself ready, I don't have all night. I gotta be up early for an Ultimate tournament tomorrow."

Richard shakes his head, clearing his scattered thoughts, and picks up the lube with trembling fingers. He stares at it dumbly for a second, unable to make his brain focus when his body is still hazy and trembling. Ed blows out an exasperated sigh and says, “Jesus Christ, do you need me to do it?”

The fog clears instantly. Richard blinks at him mulishly as he kicks his shoes off and tugs his pants all the way down and off. He rips the lube sachet open and it oozes out messily over his right hand but he takes a deep breath and gets on his knees, reaching behind himself to trace lightly over his hole. 

“That’s right, baby. Trust me," Ed’s eyes are soft, softer than they have any right to be, "you don't want me to do it." He says that last part in an almost-whisper, like he didn’t intend to say it out loud. Richard shuts his eyes as he breaches himself, focusing on the burn and the fullness and shoving down the tightness in his chest and throat because Ed’s right - he doesn't want _him_ to do it and he can't think about that right now. He shivers as pleasure begins to worm its way through the burn, chasing the sensation, mouth dropping open and face aflame as he begins to move slowly, first one finger then two. When Ed tells him what a pretty little slut he is like this, Richard’s cock jerks, smearing precome across the scant muscles of his stomach. 

It continues like that, Richard scissoring and stretching himself open while Ed’s murmurs of praise and filth start to drive him out of his mind. Helplessly, he grips the base of his cock with his left hand to prevent this from being over before he gets what he needs. As if he could hear Richard’s thoughts, Ed continues, his voice nearly a growl: “C’mon Richard, fuck yourself open for me, get it ready, gonna give you exactly what you’ve been thinking about all day. You have, haven’t you? Yeah, that’s my good little whore, in here acting like you run the place when really you’re just waiting for us to fill you up just like you need.”

A high whine escapes Richard’s throat and he opens his eyes to see Ed staring at him, breathing shallowly through his mouth, his fingers flexing as if he wants to reach out towards Richard but is using all his willpower to stop himself. He looks ravenous. The arousal burning through Richard feels like poison. 

“C’mere, c’mon,” Ed urges, impatient, reaching out to grab at Richard’s arm. Pulling his fingers out with a wince Richard sways a little and stumbles to standing, meaning to straddle Ed’s lap, but he stops. 

"You want me to, uh, face you?" Richard says, going cold all over. The images streak through his mind: straddling Ed’s lap, their foreheads pressed together; Richard watching every microexpression across Ed’s face as he comes; kissing Ed tenderly, sharing breath, as his arms loop around Ed’s neck. It’s too much, terrifyingly close to what he can’t allow himself to have, and he can’t bring himself to take another step forward. There's a flash of something unreadable across Ed's face before he reaches around and slaps Richard's ass, snapping him out of his terror. "No, turn around so I can see that hole all nice and wet for me."

Gratefully Richard obeys, turning around and backing up so that Ed can manhandle him into position - he grabs Richard’s hips, digging into the bruises from the previous night in a way that makes Richard’s dick pulse. Richard ends up kneeling on the couch with his feet (still wearing his tube socks) tucked at the back of the seat cushions, back arched and straddling Ed’s lap. This way there’s no confusion, no distractions. Just the empty office in front of him, and the warmth of Ed’s chest behind him, one of Ed’s broad hands splayed over Richard’s chest, holding him tight in a way that makes Richard go blurry and boneless. _Better this way_ , he thinks, a little delirious. _Just let him do what he wants,_ and it’s so much easier, so much fucking easier for Richard to allow himself to be used than to worry about inconsequential things like who’s touching him or what it means. All that matters right now is that he needs to come; the clawing, feral animal of his desire throbs through him with each beat of his heart. Ed pulls Richard closer and scrapes sharp teeth against the crook of Richard’s neck as he thumbs over his hole, making him whimper. 

In spite of the buildup, in spite of the night before, in spite of the finger-shaped bruises across his left hipbone that he's relished pressing in secret all day, it's still a shock to Richard as the blunted weight of Ed's cock presses against his entrance. A wave of dizziness hits him and Richard lets out a pitiful groan, _have mercy Ed please just this once, please please please_ and a sound almost like a sob escapes him as Ed guides himself into Richard’s body slowly, so slowly.

“Fuuuuck,” Richard breathes out, his head lolling back against Ed’s shoulder as Ed’s hips roll up smoothly to completely fill him. It's terrifying how good it feels, the enormousness of it, the wrong-and-rightness as his shame and embarrassment fight against the intrusion while his body welcomes it. He’s flushed and overheated thinking of how he must look: pliant and naked, his dick hard and leaking while Ed is still fully clothed. 

“That’s right, baby, I’ve got you. So good, so fucking _sweet_ the way you take this dick, you just can’t get enough can you?” Ed’s breath is hot against Richard’s ear, his voice pitched low and feverish. His hands are roaming all over Richard, across his flat stomach, over the planes of his scrawny chest, tweaking a nipple and making Richard hiss in pleasure. The graze over his thighs, caress his throat, touching him everywhere but his cock, now straining upwards as he grinds down on Ed. “Is this what you wanted, bro? I could do this all day,” Ed chuckles and it turns into a groan as Richard squeezes around him. The move is rewarded with a searing kiss on Richard’s neck, Ed’s mouth like a brand on his skin. God, the idea of Ed marking him so that everyone would _see,_ would _know_ how much of a fucked-up twisted headcase he is - a wave of arousal surges through him and he can’t help it, he wraps a sticky hand around himself and begins to stroke in time with Ed’s thrusts. Just as quickly, his hand is wrenched away, “No fucking way, this dick is _mine_ ,” Ed growls and Richard keens.

But instead of the ruthless quick jerks that Richard would normally use, Ed's touch is softer, more tender. He runs his free hand over Richard's body worshipfully. Ed strokes with the perfect rhythm. He squeezes with just the right amount of pressure. He rolls Richard’s balls against his long, deft fingers. Every touch, every thrust of his hips, it’s like Ed was designed solely to tear Richard apart and put him back together and Richard’s helpless against it, lying back against Jared's - Ed's - fuck, _someone's_ chest and just taking it and taking it and taking it. It’s everything he needs and nothing he could ever ask for, it’s the last line in a perfect string of code, it’s the planets in conjunction, it’s _good_ it’s so fucking _good_ Richard wants to scream.

“Say it,” Ed commands, jerking Richard faster. Whispers in Richard’s ear, insidious and so reasonable. “Say it, you know you want to, say it, Richard - wanna hear you, c’mon, say it baby, say it for us.” 

Richard’s willpower snaps under the weight of the hand on his cock and the voice in his ear, his back bowing as he pants, “ _Yours_ , yours, yours please fuck I - I need it I need it.” The confession is pulled from him only a moment before the tension building in his hips gathers and breaks, and with a cry of “Oh, _oh_ , fuck, Jar - Eddddd,” he’s coming in forceful spurts over his belly and chest. 

The grip on Richard’s hips tightens, and a soft voice behind him gasps, “Oh _Richard_.” A savage kind of pride blooms behind his ribs as the cock inside him - Jesus, there's someone _inside him_ \- jerks and pulses and the hands on his hip and his softening dick squeeze. That pride seems to purr inside him, and Richard hums in satisfaction as he closes his eyes and tries to catch his breath. 

They stay like that for an indeterminate amount of time; the steady rise and fall of Ed’s chest almost lulls Richard to a drowsy half-sleep. Finally, Ed urges his hips up, his softening cock and a trickle of come slipping out of Richard’s well-used hole, and Richard winces as he takes the hint and untangles himself from the couch. Suddenly, horrifyingly self-conscious of his own release cooling tacky on his skin and his dumb tube socks, he scrambles to retrieve his boxers and pants from the floor. He feels filthy and ravaged, the shame and the relief pounding in his head in a steady rhythm. By the time he’s half-dressed, Ed has tucked himself away neatly, his khakis buttoned, and the only evidence of the encounter is one errant curl that has escaped his slightly mussed hair. It hangs in the center of his forehead, an inverted comma, and Richard has the manic urge to run over and tuck it back in place. 

Ed searches Richard’s face for a moment and then lazily stands up. “Alright, well. Deuces.”

He makes his way past Richard to the exit but stops when Richard stammers, “Wait - but - I mean are you going to, uh. Y'know. Stick around? For awhile?”

Ed smirks at him, considering. He raises his hand in a half-hearted peace sign over his chest and spins on his heel to saunter out of the office without a word.

The silence of the office presses in on him as Richard continues getting redressed, tugging his hoodie back on with heavy limbs. Jesus, the room reeks of sex, but Richard is tingling and sated down to his bones and can’t bring himself to care. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and checks it - and after hesitating for a second, he opens his Hooli calendar app and taps out an invitation. After hitting “send,” he slings his laptop bag over his shoulder and turns out the light. 

One small, cheery _ding!_ sounds from his pocket, and Richard’s lips twist into a smile. 


End file.
